


The New Guy

by misha_anon



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: First Kiss, First Time Handjob, M/M, PWP, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 04:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1291096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha figures out pretty quickly that Jensen is interested, though it takes him a little longer to figure out <i>how</i> interested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Guy

A lifetime of being the new guy has given Misha the ability to read people quickly and accurately - that's why he knows almost immediately that Jensen is interested.  He pretends not to notice when he catches Jensen's eyes drifting to his lips while simultaneously licking his own.  He pretends not to understand Jensen's subtle teasing, taking umbrage so Jensen will feel the need to lay a hand his shoulder reassuringly and explain with a grin.  

Most of all, Misha pretends not to know where the evening is headed the first time Jensen asks him into his trailer - alone - for a beer.  He takes a seat on the trailer's couch and tries not to smile while Jensen flits around, acquiring two bottles, opening them, depositing one in Misha's hand, then hovering indecisively while they drink.  Conversation builds haltingly, first with talk about the scene they just finished before moving on to tomorrow's schedule.

It's apparent when Jensen's beer does the nerve-steadying trick it was intended to do in the fact that he opens another and  _finally_  sits down on the opposite end of the couch.  When the conversation falters, Misha deftly takes it in a different direction, ignoring the nervous way Jensen twists his beer bottle between his fingertips.

As they talk about nothing at all important, Jensen drifts closer until he's within arm's reach of Misha.  A few moments later, their knees are touching.  A moment after that, Jensen's thigh is pressed alongside Misha's; their empty beer bottles are on the floor at their feet, and Jensen's cheeks are pink.

"So," Jensen says, his voice a little thicker than it was five minutes ago.

"So," Misha echoes, his heart beating a little faster in his chest when Jensen's eyes settle on his lips.  He licks them in invitation and Jensen's gaze drifts slowly back to his eyes.  When Jensen's eyes flick to his lips again, Misha's breath goes a little funny and he leans the tiniest bit closer.

As though it's exactly what Jensen has been waiting for, he leans in to close the distance between their lips.  The first brush is awkward, over almost before it starts; and for a fraction of a second, Misha is disappointed, sure that Jensen has lost his nerve.  But, before he has time to open his eyes, Jensen's lips are pressed to his again, lingering.

Misha reaches up, palm sliding reassuringly against Jensen's jaw in an effort to still the nervous buzz rolling off him in waves.  It works and half a second later, Jensen's fingers are twisted in Misha's shirt, trying to pull him closer even as they shift to a less awkward angle.  Jensen grows bolder, his lips parting, inviting Misha to kiss him back.

Excitement twists around Misha's insides, three long weeks of anticipation and wondering what Jensen's kisses taste like coming to an end as he teases the tip of his tongue against the swell of Jensen's bottom lip.  Jensen pushes forward, tugging harder at Misha's shirt as they begin a tentative exploration of one another's lips.

Under the sour malt flavor of beer, Jensen tastes sweet like the gum he chews between takes; a hint of sugar that's somehow  _right_  on the tip of Misha's tongue.  When he hums approval, Jensen's body trembles with a hum of his own, so Misha takes the lead, kissing Jensen more deeply until their lips slide wetly and they both steal ragged breaths whenever they can.

Even when Jensen finally starts to pull away, his lips linger chastely on Misha's as his fingers slowly uncurl from Misha's shirt.  When he finally breaks contact completely, Misha opens his eyes to find him watching with a half-lidded gaze and a crooked smile, his cheeks a deeper shade of pink than before.

"So," Misha says, breathless and biting his bottom lip around a smile.

" _So_ ," Jensen echoes huskily as Misha pretends not to notice he's leaning in for another kiss.

*****

Two months and more false starts than he cares to think about after their first kiss, Misha has his fingers wrapped around Jensen's thick cock.  Sprawled half-naked as best as they can on the too-small couch in Jensen's trailer, Misha whispers filthy encouragement against the curve of his ear as he strokes slowly from root to tip and back again.

Jensen claws blindly, his nails digging little points of pain into Misha's bare shoulder as he twists his body to fuck uncertainly into Misha's fist.  More breathless whispers flow in a steady stream as Misha wraps his still jean-clad thigh around Jensen's and dips his head to nibble at the tender skin of Jensen's neck.

Hitched breaths and stifled whimpers of pleasure vibrate under Misha's lips as he begins to pump more quickly, twisting his fingers around the head of Jensen's cock and smearing precome with each stroke.  An instant later, Jensen's fingers are tangled in Misha's hair, pulling him into a desperate, tongue-fucking kiss.

Misha's hips grind in an unsteady rhythm as he seeks relief for the ache of his own cock in the sweet friction of fucking against Jensen.  It comes as a surprise when Jensen's free hand wraps over the top of his to squeeze his fist tighter and stroke faster.  Misha pulls away from the kiss, panting and giving himself over to the haze of pleasure he finds in the writhing of Jensen's muscular body against his own.

He struggles to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a second of the ecstasy on Jensen's beautiful, flushed face. His plan is foiled when Jensen tugs insistently at his hair, and their lips crash together again; too hard and just hard enough.  Half a dozen quick strokes later, Jensen's body tightens and curls, his cock stiffening in Misha's hand.

Misha ruts erratically against the tensed muscles of Jensen's thigh even as he catches the throaty moan of pleasure that accompanies the splash of thick come up Jensen's stomach.  Try as he might to concentrate on giving instead of receiving, the sharp burn of impending orgasm overtakes him.

Jensen's fingers are shaking and wet with come when they slide under Misha's jeans and squeeze his ass; his other hand still twisted in Misha's hair, holding their lips together in an inelegantly wet slide of kiss-plumped lips and half-hearted swipes of tongue.  Misha can only pull away long enough to gasp a ragged breath before he comes in his jeans like a horny teenager, still grinding mercilessly against Jensen.

Relief is tangible, flowing to Misha's fingertips and curling his toes as he grabs at Jensen's sweaty hip with come-slick fingers in effort to ground himself.  His chest sticks damply to Jensen's as they share the almost unbearably hot air caught between their lips and an elated half-chuckle.

"All good?"  Misha asks into Jensen's neck, feeling suddenly bone tired as he shifts to take some of his weight off Jensen's body.

"Fuck, yeah," Jensen answers, refusing to let him move too far.


End file.
